Let It Rip!
by KamikazePyro
Summary: AU with OCs except Mister Dickenson. There's something amiss in the Beyblading community, and it's up to the team Mister Dickenson assembled to find out what and, if dangerous, stop it at all costs.
1. Train or Relax?

**A/N:** _This is mostly just boring origin stuff, but keep going and it gets much better! Please leave a review to let me know your thoughts! Enjoy._

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><p>It was six o'clock in the morning, and the tournament was getting closer and closer by the minute. None of the Ice Bladers had gotten up yet, but the Black Hawks were well into their training, having begun two hours prior.<p>

Getting out of his bed, the starved blader, John, took in a big breath of air and blew it out. His hair was all messed up and he had pizza crust stuck to his leg. He made his way to the hotel room's door, removing the pizza crust and grabbing his room key on the way out. He didn't seem to care that he was still in his pajamas.

As John left, the captain of the Ice Bladers, Kevin, came out of the bathroom with clean clothes on and a baron face. He rubbed his newly shaved cheeks as he hummed over to the balcony overlooking the beach.

"It's a great day for relaxation, isn't it, Icers?" he asked, hearing the rest of the team slowly awakening. "We trained hard yesterday, so today I thought we'd take the day off and let our bodies catch up."

Parker, flubby and tenacious, wobbled over to the balcony, joining his leader. "I can't wait for tomorrow, Kevin. I want to show those Black Hawks and everybody else that I'm not a loser. I can't believe I lost to Steven like that. I let the whole team down."

Kevin patted Parker on the back, saying, "Not at all. Mistakes happen. We just have to learn from them, pal."

"Yeah!" shouted Carry, sprinting over to them and jumping on Parker's back. "Ooh, it's such a bright day out! Can we go to the beach, Kev?"

"Sure," he answered gladly. He began speaking when something caught his attention. It was the sound of orders being barked by a familiar voice.

The three of them looked to the shoreline, witnessing the Black Hawks running the beach in training clothes. At the front of the pack was Sarge, snapping orders at them left and right without hesitation. The team was sweating profusely, even through their weighted clothing.

"Wow, they're training this early?" Carry asked in astonishment. "I guess they really don't want to lose. They're taking this pretty seriously."

Kevin chuckled, turning to his teammates as John returned. "Nevermind them. It's our day to relax, so go on. Let's have some fun!"

Over in the Demolition Raiders' room, the dark-skinned Kenyan named Damilare shot up from his quarters, quickly entering the bathroom, both hands holding his buttocks. The sunlight from the outside shone into the room through the blinds, waking up Chrissy. She moaned and got out of her bed, immediately tripping over Angus on the floor, cursing as she hit the carpet

"Jeez, Angus! Way to sleep on the floor right in front of my bed, you idiot!" Chrissy whispered angrily, walking past Angus and making her way to the bathroom in her Green Bay Packers.

Angus laughed, continuing to lie on the floor, flipping over onto his back. "Maybe if we had enough beds that wouldn't happen."

Chrissy pounded on the bathroom door continuously for a moment. "Who's in there? I gotta go!"

Damilare called out from inside the bathroom, "Damn, hold on! Those Chinese noodles and that Mexican food didn't mix well! Oh, save me, this is like a semi-truck passing through my bowels!"

Chrissy kicked the door and walked over to the window, peering out of it at the brilliant Pacific Ocean. There were a few regular surfers and a speedboat passing along. Angus sat up and stretched his arms. He was the only one who didn't change into his pajamas.

Chrissy began yelling at Damilare in the bathroom, the yelling soon turning into an argument about how long it takes the average African to use the restroom. Eventually the two give up and move on.

"Hey, Angus, wanna train with me and then go to the beach?" she asked, swooping in and jumping on top of him.

Not wanting to deny such a pretty face, Angus politely agreed, gently pushing her off of him and hopping to his feet. He rummaged around in his pocket and finally retrieved his Beyblade, holding it proudly. "I don't think you can handle my Ram Basher, but it'll be a good workout for you anyway."

In the room directly across from the Demolition Raiders, the members of the Covenant were preparing for another day of hard training. They'd been witnesses to Steve and Parker's battle in the hotel fitness room, and knew they couldn't let themselves slip even one bit, or they'd fall prey to the Black Hawks. There was only one day to get stronger, and they weren't going to waste it taking a breather.

Manfred, the team's leader, was already doing sit-ups on his bed, sweat forming on his neck and chest. Mickey was stretching on the balcony, focusing on his arms. Even while in the shower, Chuck was throwing punches at the water droplets. The final member, Jerry, was on his laptop, checking the BBA's website for their statistics.

"Jerry, anything new?" Manfred asking, huffing as he dropped back down onto the bed and then lifted himself up again, completing his 50th sit-up.

Jerry's fingertips clacked on the keyboard and he turned the screen to face Manfred. "Yeah, they updated the stats with this month's matches, and it looks like we're tied for overall second with the Ice Bladers."

Manfred shouted in protest, "Excuse me! Who does those stats? That's garbage. We've won more matches than those guys and we certainly have better players. I should file a complaint."

Mickey hopped into the room, running over to the laptop screen. "Hey, Jerry, look me up. I wanna see how much crap you have to feed the makers of these stats in order to make it to the top."

Jerry obliged, typing in a few commands. With the click of a mouse, he'd arrived at the rankings list. "You're exactly where I figured you would be using my own statistics, Mickey. Guys, these statistics aren't rigged or sloppy. I agree with them, and I have my own to back it up. We just have to win this tournament, and then we'll surely be on top."

Miffed, Manfred replied, "We will win this tournament and become the American Intercontinental Champions. We have to obtain the top status in order to manipulate the others into following us and giving us their power. Our ancestors put their faith in us."

Chuck came out of the bathroom, going straight for his Beyblade. "Okay, guys, I'm ready to release my inner rage. Let's do this."

"We should probably use the fitness room," Mickey said, gathering his blade and launcher. "I heard the Black Hawks were using the beach for their training. We don't want to get mixed up with them the day before the tournament, I reckon."

"They're still training, huh? I thought we were the only ones doing that today while everybody else sat on their asses," Manfred chortled, throwing a shirt on. "Maybe we should go down to the beach, guys."

They all looked at him simultaneously, surprised at his suggestion.

"But why?" asked Jerry. "It's best if we don't let them see any of our moves or strategies until the day of the tournament."

Manfred held up his index finger. "You recall that I've been training you in two different ways, don't you? I didn't do that for nothing. If the enemy gains knowledge of one way, we just switch it up and take them by surprise. By manipulating the Hawks into thinking we've only got one palette, they'll never stand a chance against us when we use the other!"

"But what if they do?" persisted Jerry.

"They won't, okay? Let's just go. Chuck could use a workout, and I'm sure the Hawks wouldn't mind some fresh 'prey', as they poetically put it."

"Get up, you chicken-fried turkey shit!" screamed Sarge, setting his foot down on the back of an exhausted blader. Even though Sarge's bark was huge, so were his blading skills, and that's precisely why he was made the commander of the Black Hawks. He stood at six feet and three inches, and was 310 pounds of lean muscle. His blonde hair was chopped off right above his scalp. "We don't have time for resting! The tournament is tomorrow and there will be no pussies on my team! If you can't handle it, I will cut you and replace you with someone who can, got it!"

Spitting sand from his mouth, Steven continued doing pushups, his muscles strained, pushed to their brink from Sarge's training. He'd done training similar to this before in Germany, but his instructors weren't as loud, at least. He glanced over to his three teammates, checking to see how they were holding up compared to him. His glancing was cut short as Sarge stepped on his back, forcing him to the sandy ground.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sarge yelled, putting more of his weight on Steven's back. "There is no time to be ogling your teammates! In eighteen hours, we will be locked in battle, and if we do not win, you will all pay the hefty price of complete and utter failure!" He pushed down further, zeroing in on Steven's lower back, knowing that was a problem area for him. "We still have ten more miles to run and plenty of sparring matches to get through, so let's go, Hawks!"

Steven lifted himself off the ground, his teeth pushing so hard against each other he could swear they would break off on each other, two large veins popping out on his forehead, and blood from his eyebrow dripping into his eyes below.

Fearing further punishment, Michael, Freddy, and Trevor didn't dare look over to Steven. They continued their rigorous training, holding back the tears that so eagerly wanted to come out.


	2. Not So Friendly Competition

"Yeah, that's it! Go, and hit him with Soaring Crash, Pidgey!" Chrissy ordered her Bit-Beast, smiling with an intense joy as her blade made a beeline straight into Angus', crashing it into the rim of the dish. "You got anything to fend off my attack, Angus, or are you done?"

Angus laughed heartily, and then pointed at their spinning tops battling. "I'm not done yet, Chrissy! Let's go, Ram Basher! Take this one home!"

Sipping on some sodas at the table a few feet from the Beydish, Damilare and his friend Cory watched the match, noting their teammates' strengths and weaknesses and how much they'd improved over the last month. Cory lifted his soda to drink when it suddenly exploded in his face, causing him to fall backwards out of his chair in dismay. Damilare started laughing as Cory picked himself up.

"What in the world?" the boy exclaimed, wringing his blue shirt out. The soda had gotten all over his upper body and covered his pelvic region as well, making him appear as if he'd wet his pants. "What the crap was that, guys?"

Angus ran over to him, kneeling down and picking up his Beyblade, snickering. "Sorry, dude. She knocked my blade out of the dish so fast that I couldn't even warn you."

Chrissy gave a cheesy smile, obviously not guilty about what she'd done, but rather impressed. She looked at Angus happily. "I guess that makes me the winner again."

"Again," Angus said, attaching his Beyblade to his launcher. "I won't lose this time."

"That's what you said the last five times," Chrissy giggled, getting ready for yet another round. "But if you insist."

After a hotel attendant had handed him a towel, Cory sat back down, cautious of anymore mishaps. He carefully took another soda and popped the cap off, watching the Beyblades intently for any sudden movements.

Seeing his friend so wary, Damilare waved his hand in front of his face. "Lighten up, man. We have the whole day to relax, so do it."

Cory's shoulders sunk and he forced himself to relax, sinking into his seat. "Yeah, I guess I'm just a little nervous about the tournament. I know we'll do well, but I don't know if we'll win."

"That's just your nerves talking, dude. We'll definitely win. I'm in the top five ranked players."

"Yeah, but the other four are in this tournament, too, and those stats are mostly based off the number of battles you've had. If someone hasn't battled as much, they won't be ranked as high. You've battled hundreds of times and won most of those times, so it's only natural you'd be so high up."

Damilare shrugged. "Whatever, we'll still win. I know I'm the best blader in the world."

"Care to back that up?"

Cory straightened up in his seat. "Manfred! What are you doing here?"

Standing a short distance away from the Demolition Raiders was the Covenant, and they didn't look overjoyed to see a team they considered to be "in their way".

Manfred answered pompously, "If you must know, we're on our way to the beach to battle the Black Hawks."

Cory's eyes widened. "What? Why would you do that the day before the tournament?"

Manfred waved his index finger. "That's none of your business, but since we're here, how about we have a little exhibition match?" Cory visibly shook a bit in his seat, and Manfred capitalized. "Oh, I see that you're scared. I mean, you already wet your pants, so it's okay to admit it. We all get scared sometimes, well, except for me and my team."

Chrissy hissed, "Yeah? I bet you'd be scared to battle me, you big-nosed ball bag!"

Chuck jumped in front of Manfred, growling like a bear. Chrissy didn't back down, and stepped closer to him, putting her hands to her hips. She wasn't the kind of girl that was easily intimidated, especially if she thought the perpetrator was all bark and little bite.

"So is that a no then?" Manfred asked, pushing Chuck back behind him.

Damilare took out his blade and pointed it at Manfred. "No way! I'll take you down right here!"

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's see just how badly I beat you," Manfred declared, stepping up to the Beydish and preparing his blade. He looked back at his teammates and gave them a nod. They nodded back, and he grinned at Damilare. "Get ready for total annihilation."

"3…2…1…Let it rip!"

Both Beyblades launched, hitting the dish below and immediately moving in to attack the other. Damilare's Spearfishborg wasted no time gaining the upper hand over Manfred's Wolfbear. It smashed into Wolfbear viciously, pushing it back until it reached the rim of the dish, where Wolfbear fought back and moved out of the way just in time. Spearfishborg almost fell out, but it saved itself and managed to just barely regain its composure.

"Don't let up, Wolfbear! Teach this foe a lesson with Cursed Claw!" Manfred shouted, finding it time to increase his intensity.

The dark gray spinning top glowed a hazy purple, and soon a pillar of light emitted from the bit chip. A fiendish looking wolf with a bear's body appeared above, howling strongly.

Damilare knew it was also time to up his game and stop testing the waters. "Come on, Spearfishborg! Show him what real power is!"

Out of the brown Beyblade came a large blue spearfish with golden armor on its fins and spikes on its gills. It headed into battle with Wolfbear, easily alluding the beast's grip and slashing it with its spear. Wolfbear howled in pain and turned, retaliating with its jagged, oversized claws. The fish dodged this as well, sliding underneath the bear, its razor sharp dorsal fin cutting the wolf's inner thighs.

Manfred snarled, clearly not enthused that he was being made to look like a chump by a fish. "This is just child's play, you fool! I'm merely toying with you, testing your strengths and weaknesses, you see? I've had this entire battle under control from the start, and you fell right into my trap!"

"Is that the best excuse for losing you could come up with?" Damilare taunted. His eyes moved past Manfred to the window, his jaw falling open.

The other Demolition Raiders noticed it, too, and ran to the window, amazed at the sight of a huge red tornado spinning in the direction of the beach. The tornado seemingly shattered, and then disappeared completely. When the shock had worn off, the Raiders returned their attention to the battle, seeing that their opponents were gone.

Damilare knelt down and retrieved his blade, smiling triumphantly. He knew he would've been the victor had the battle continued, and so did his teammates, who came over to congratulate him. Underneath his smile, he wondered just what that red tornado was, though.


	3. The Standings Announced

"Hold on to your seats, folks! It's the day you've been patiently waiting for! Today is the day one team out of many will be crowned the intercontinental champions!"

The announcer, Joseph, stood on top of a moving platform in the middle of a grand stadium built by the BBA. Surrounding him in the hundreds of luxurious seats were anxious fans that wanted nothing more than to see great battles. The roof of the stadium folded open, letting in brilliant sunshine and a refreshing breeze to counter the warm weather. Cloud formations were few and far in between.

In the Icers' hotel room, Kevin patted down his hair, feeling the jitters jumping around inside him. He knew his team's future depended on their victory in the tournament, and he wasn't going to let them down. He could hear the fans cheering from the television that John had turned on.

"This is it, fellas," Carry said, throwing the strap from her purple bag over her shoulder and heading to the door. "We're gonna be champions."

John went over beside her, eating a slice of pizza. Kevin and Parker joined them, and together they left their hotel room, ready for the tournament.

Outside of their room, they encountered the Demolition Raiders, who were also heading down to the tournament. It seemed they were as ready as ever as well. The teams hadn't interacted much during the week they'd been at the hotel, but they were each fond of and heavily respected one another.

"Damilare, I hope we face each other," said Kevin, holding out his hand as the elevator doors opened. "May the best team win."

Damilare returned the handshake, nodding. "Yeah."

Carry and Chrissy eyed each other, silently letting the other know their plans to face-off if their teams clashed. It had always been a goal of the girls to face each other to prove which female was stronger. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was just jealousy.

The two teams piled into the elevator, fitting surprisingly well together, and ventured downward to the first floor.

"I see a team arriving!" announced Joseph, leaning forward on his platform and cupping his eyes. "It looks like…"

From the west wing of the stadium, a few silhouettes could be seen making their ways to the floor. One was huge, while the others were the size of the average teenage male. It could be no other team than—

"The Black Hawks!" Joseph shouted, jumping up and down in place, extremely riled up. "The Black Hawks are the first team to arrive on the floor! Of course, I expected nothing less!"

As the crowd cheered and booed simultaneously for the team, the other teams arrived seemingly in tandem – first the Covenant, and then the Ice Bladers and Demolition Raiders together. Each team took a separate designated position on the floor. A large flat-screen television rose up from behind Joseph, displaying the BBA logo for a moment before switching to the standings.

Joseph put the mic to his mouth and performed his duties as announcer. "It brings me great pleasure to formally begin the BBA Intercontinental Championship! Four teams will battle it out today, but only one will take home the prestige, respect, and a fancy gold cup. The standings are behind me, folks, and now, for clarity, I will list them and explain the necessary rules of battle!"

On the floor, the members of the Covenant were staring a hole through the Ice Bladers, displeased over being tied in second with them, Manfred especially. He had his eye on Kevin, and the leader of the Ice Bladers caught wind of this, returning the stare. The Demolition Raiders and Black Hawks were completely oblivious to this, focused only on who they faced, although the Black Hawks didn't really care, as they felt completely superior to any team in the world.

Joseph continued after a moment's pause, letting the teams and fans build up tension. "Alright, first match will be the Covenant squaring off with the Black Hawks!"

Somewhat surprised at this match-up, the Covenant peered over to the Black Hawks, who were all grinning smugly except for Steven, who had his arms crossed and was staring up at the screen indifferently.

"So we're facing the number one ranked team in the country according to the BBA stats, huh?" Mickey asked rhetorically, feeling his nerves tightening at the thought of the oncoming battle.

"That's what it looks like," Jerry said, adjusting his thin glasses on the bridge of his nose. "We've got some last-minute preparations to finish before we rush into battle with them."

"Bah, we'll be fine," Manfred said, even though in the back of his mind he had doubts. "We just need to keep our guard up and expect anything from them." _I know Sarge's training is gruesome, but we've also been training hard, and we won't let our ancestors down._

"The Ice Bladers will be facing off against the Demolition Raiders in the second match! The winning team from both matches will battle for the championship! I can just feel the excitement already, folks! This is sure to be a test of wits and sheer power today!"

Kevin was animated for his team's bout with the Demolition Raiders. They had planned on battling since they encountered each other the month before, and now they'd finally get the chance to. He smiled hugely. _I hope you're ready, Damilare, because I'm gunning for you. I've watched my team progress immensely over the last month, and I'm confident that we can beat you guys. I know you'll have a few surprises for us, though, and that's exactly why I'm so thrilled to fight._ His concentration on the Demolition Raiders was broken as Joseph began speaking again.

"The rules are simple. Three members from each team will battle in a best 2-of-3 set. The first team to win two sets will be declared the winner! Now, what do you say we get the ball rolling? We'll have a special match between two fans, like yourselves, while the Covenant and the Black Hawks have ten minutes to prepare for their battle!"

Confetti dropped from a blimp flying overhead as the teams dispersed to their locker rooms and the two fans made their ways to the Beydish.


	4. The First Match Begins

"We can learn a lot from the upcoming match," Kevin said to his teammates in their locker room, sitting on a bench next to Carry. "Two of the toughest teams are about to go at it, and we can't miss this opportunity to learn some of their strategies."

"Shouldn't we be more focused on our match with the Demolition Raiders?" asked Parker, polishing his Beyblade with a soft cloth.

"Parker's right," Carry interjected, putting her hand on Kevin's knee. "We still have to get past them first before we plan for the final match, and I have a feeling we're gonna have a very tough time with them. They want this just as much as we do, you know." _Determination may be the key to deciding who wins between us and them, after all._

Kevin took a long breath. "I know. I guess I'm getting a little ahead of myself. But still, we should watch the first match and take what we can from it."

There was a knock at the door. John was the first to react, hopping over to the door and opening it.

"The Covenant," John said dryly. "What do you guys want?"

Kevin rose to his feet at once, coming to John's side.

Manfred gave a sly smile. "We just wanted to come by and tell you to give up and hand over your blades now. We're gonna win this tournament easily, after all. So what do you say, little man?"

John returned a sly smile. "In case you don't remember, you're up against the Black Hawks, doofus. I'm sure you won't beat them."

"That's what you think, squirt," Manfred replied, shrugging. "I guess you'll just have to see for yourself when we stomp those punks. When we do, I'll personally take you down, Kevin, and when I beat you, I'm gonna smash your blade! Let's go, guys. I think we've wasted enough time with these fools."

John left the room behind the Covenant, spinning Manfred around and punching him right in the jaw, sending the man to the floor. Chuck reacted swiftly, grabbing John by the collar of his shirt and tossing him ten feet down the hallway. The rest of the Ice Bladers ran out of their locker room to see the commotion, quickly running to John's aid.

Chuck let out a battle cry and ran up to them, kicking Parker away and shoving Carry to the floor. Kevin got up just in time to dodge a punishing left hook, but Chuck continued his assault, picking Kevin up and slamming him into the wall.

While this was going on, Manfred and the other Covenant members started cracking up, too busy laughing to notice two BBA officials heading their way.

"What's going on here? Hey, put that young man down at once!" shouted one official, running up to Chuck, who had John lifted above him.

Chuck growled and dropped John, the boy landing with a loud thud on the floor. He returned to his teammates, snickering at the carnage he'd caused.

"You boys get back to your locker room before I disqualify you!" declared the other official, who was helping John to his feet.

The Covenant obliged and disappeared down the hall while the two officials aided the Ice Bladers back into their locker room.

"Care to explain what happened out there?" asked the taller official.

John crossed his arms and frowned. "Those guys started it by coming here and threatening us. I was just defending myself."

The official sighed and asked, "Well, are you guys all okay?"

The team gradually nodded.

"Okay, then just stay out of trouble. If I catch you guys fighting again, I'm afraid I'll have to disqualify you. Now, if everything's okay here, we're going to go back out to the stadium and prepare the dish for the first official match."

The two officials left. John got up from his seat and slammed his fist down onto the table, rattling the various Beyblade parts spread out on it. "That guy made me look like a chode! I wanna face him, even if they don't make it to the next round! I'm going after him at some point and none of you are gonna stop me, got that?"

There was a small squeal from the PA box in the corner of the room as it came to life.

"The first round will start in five minutes! Participants, make your last-minute preparations before coming to the stadium! Thank you!"

John found it in himself to calm down, breathing out slowly before heading for the door. "Let's go watch those asses get whipped." He flung the door open, leaving the group.

Carry let out a worried sigh, following behind him. Kevin and Parker both looked at each other before exiting the room as well, all of their gear sitting out in the open on top of the table.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaareee youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu readyyyyyyyyyyyyy, folks?" shouted Joseph at the top of his lungs, spinning in a complete 360 in his platform as it rose above the Beydish. Two fireworks exploded above him, showering him in a dazzling display of light.

The Ice Bladers were pointed to a row in the front, their seats right next to the Demolition Raiders, who were all too happy to see them. Kevin took a seat, followed by Carry, followed by Parker, followed by John, who was still angry from his recent encounter with the Covenant.

"Excited for the battle?" Damilare asked, elbowing Kevin in the arm lightly.

"Yeah, I'm really interested in who the winner will be," Kevin responded, folding one leg over the other as he got comfortable. "I can't decide who it'll be."

The stereos kicked up all over the stadium, blasting out loud hard rock synthetic music. The lights dimmed down considerably, and a red spotlight shined down on a corridor leading back to the locker rooms.

"Here come the Covenant," Parker said miserably.

"Ah, I don't think so," Carry corrected him as the team left the darkness and appeared in the spotlight.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Black Hawks!" Joseph announced, pointing down to them. "They're currently the number one ranked team in the country! Can the team we're still waiting on bring them down a notch? Let's find out! Here they come!"

The rock music faded as an eerie piano beat hit the speakers, bringing the mood down. From another corridor came the Covenant, dressed in ceremonial druid robes.

"And here is the Covenant! They appear to be dressed in some kind of costume, but I'm not sure why! Could it have some sort of wicked ability to enhance their game? We'll find out!"

The Covenant moved slowly across the floor, their robes dragging behind them. They huddled over by their bench. Across from them, the Black Hawks were being instructed by Sarge. The lights returned to normal as all of the music faded.

"Time to show them what we're made out of, Hawks," Sarge said, pacing back and forth in front of them. "We will not lose. Only weaklings lose, and we are not weaklings, are we?"

"No!" they all shouted in robotic unison.

"Then destroy them! Shatter their blades and their hopes!" He stopped in front of Michael, then turned and pointed to the Beydish. "You're up first, Michael. I expect nothing less than a swift and crushing victory!"

Michael, just two inches shorter than Sarge, nodded affirmatively and headed for the dish. He reached into his dark blue jumpsuit and retrieved his Beyblade; it's attack ring had four points shaped like miniature butcher knives equally spread apart from one another, its weight disk was wide, and its base was slender with a sharp metal tip at the bottom.

"Fellow Covenant members, it's time to fulfill our family's mission," Manfred began. "For centuries it's been passed down, and now it's finally our turn. We can't let our ancestors down, got that? Mickey, you're up. Make our ancestors proud."

Mickey removed his robe and headed for the dish opposite of Michael. His blade had a Halloween pumpkin theme to it, with three orange bumps protruding from the attack ring and the base, while the rest of the blade was black.

"It looks like Michael from the Black Hawks and Mickey from the Covenant will start things off! Bladers, are you ready!" Joseph reported loudly.

Up in the stands, the Demolition Raiders and the Ice Bladers looked on attentively.

"3…2…1…LET IT RIIIIIPPP!"


	5. Mickey VS Michael

"And we're off to a brutal start in the first round, folks! Michael is running from all of Mickey's assaults like Mickey is a bomb ready to blow! But how long can he keep this up?"

Standing indifferently on his side of the dish, Michael hadn't moved the entire battle yet. His blade swerved all around the dish, Mickey's trailing behind it. It didn't look like he had any plans of fighting Mickey directly. _That's right, little pup. Follow the leader._

_What is he doing? He's just running away from me. _"Why won't you fight back?" Mickey asked, his voice one of anger and curiosity. "This is pointless if all you're gonna do is run! I want a fight! I thought the Black Hawks were supposed to be tough, but all you've done is run away like a chicken!"

On the sidelines, Jerry had his laptop open, watching the battle from a different angle. On the screen was a display of various stats from both blades and bladers, including attack power, spin rotation, and damage. A drop of sweat fell from his forehead, catching Manfred's attention.

"What's with you, Jerry? You're sweating up a storm over there." The Covenant's leader made his way to Jerry, taking a peek at the screen. Mickey's spin rotation bar was decreasing quickly while Michael's was still near its peak. _Oh no, Mickey's wearing down fast! He doesn't have much time left._ "Mickey, you have to end this now!"

Listening to his teammate's advice, Mickey called out to his blade. "Let's go! End him!" His blade spun forward, finally hitting Michael's straight into the rim of the dish, bashing against it constantly. "Come on…!" _I have to get him out before I run out of steam!_

Michael finally cracked a tiny smile, pointing his finger at the two blades. His moved out of the way of Mickey's assault, letting Mickey run into the dish, throwing it off balance.

_Oh no, this isn't good. I can't get my balance back and he's still going strong! I can't believe I fell right into his trap._ Mickey looked on helplessly as his blade continued spinning awkwardly, Michael easily evading all of his hits again, seemingly toying with him.

Watching from his seat in the stands, Damilare took note of Michael's strategy, filing it into his memory for later use. "It looks like this'll be an easy win for Michael now, huh, guys?" _Mickey was too foolish, just like I predicted. Too bad his teammates won't be the same way._

Sitting next to him, Chrissy said, "Yep, he's got this in the bag. Mickey should've paid more attention to Michael instead of rushing right into battle without considering the opponent's strategy. It's actually kind of an amateur mistake, if you ask me."

Angus rocked in his seat, waiting for the battle to end. "When we make it to the next round, I wanna face Michael."

"Why him, Angus?" Chrissy asked. "There's still three other bladers on the Black Hawks. Maybe you'll change your mind."

"Nah, I don't think so. Something about this guy just draws me in. I know I have to face him."

The battle seemed to be winding down. Mickey was yelling furiously as Michael continued toying with him, leading him around the dish like a dog trying to get a treat. Michael gripped his ripcord, raised his hand, and then brought it down in a series of stabbing motions, catching Mickey off-guard. The two blades collided once more, and Mickey's was sent into the rim, bouncing off and flying into the air. Michael continued his stabbing motions as Mickey eyed his blade falling, falling, falling right onto the floor beside him.

"RING OUT!" declared Joseph. "Michael takes the first round in this set!"

Defeated, Mickey picked up his blade and attached it to his launcher. He didn't dare look back at his teammates, for he knew they were irate. He got back in position for the next round, as did Michael.

"3…2…1…LET IT RIP!"

Mickey lifted his arms up as he launched his blade, commencing a sudden change from his normal launching style. His blade propelled into the air at an upward angle, coming down hard on Michael's, sending it flying across the dish. Mickey was quick on the attack, not allowing Michael any time to breathe. Their blades clashed, sparks flying and metal grinding.

"Mickey's really concentrating out there," Jerry said, watching his screen. "He's taking Michael's stamina down with his. Smart move. If Michael's spin power goes down in line with Mickey's, the battle will come down to whoever has more attacking power, and that's where Mickey is superior."

"He better be playing this smarter than before," Chuck added, rubbing his knuckles together. "We can't afford a first-game loss. We have to set the tone."

Manfred tapped his foot on the floor impatiently. _Don't fail us again, Mickey, or else._

A low grunt came from Michael as he watched his Beyblade get hit repeatedly by Mickey's. He grunted again, and his blade dodged Mickey's, beginning its run around the dish again.

"No!" Mickey exclaimed, his frustration brewing. _I can't let him embarrass me and my team again! I have to counter his strategy somehow._ "Aahh! Attack!"

His Halloween-styled Beyblade chased after Michael's, eventually catching up to it and stopping it in its tracks. A massive amount of sparks flew out as Mickey's blade managed to get under Michael's, flipping it over onto its top, where it inevitably spun out, granting Mickey the win.

"I can't believe it! Mickey takes the second round!" yelled Joseph, lowering his platform. "The first set is tied at one a piece. Whoever takes the next round will take the set!"

Michael rolled up his sleeves, revealing two pentagrams, one on each forearm. He no longer had an indifferent expression on his face. Now he looked irritated.

"I have to admit, that was a great attack by Mickey," Carry remarked. "He definitely upped his game that time. Let's see if he can do it again. I'm sure Michael won't fall for the same trick twice."

Kevin concurred, shifting in his seat. "The thing I'm wondering is if Mickey has it in him to finish another round."

"What do you mean?" asked Parker. "He looks just fine—Oh, I see it now." He observed Mickey closer, seeing the boy panting a bit as he got ready.

John commented, "He's mentally and physically tiring. He didn't expect to have such a difficult fight, probably because of his overconfidence. He's an attack-oriented blader, and his lack of stamina shows quite quickly. Michael, on the other hand, is an endurance-based blader, and while his defense is weak, he still has enough power for a decent attack." _I find it interesting that the Black Hawks' best endurance blader was paired up with the Covenant's best attack blader. I guess it's just a coincidence._

"So what you're saying is Mickey's tank is drying up while Michael's still sitting pretty?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Parker. Mickey only managed to win that last round because he capitalized on Michael's weak defense; he didn't outlast him or anything. This round will be different."

Mickey was growing tired. The last round forced him to give up more strength than he would've preferred. He knew it came down to this round, or he was finished. He'd be kicked out of the Covenant, shunned for life.

"3…2…1…LET IT RIP!"

The two Beyblades landed in the dish, Mickey's hitting it off right away. Michael's sat in place, waiting for Mickey's attack.

"What are those devil markings for?" Mickey questioned, noticing Michael's forearms. "Is he gonna give you extra strength in this match or something? Hm?" _Maybe if I get inside his head, he'll screw up. But so far he hasn't said a single word, so maybe that'll be easier said than done._

Michael scowled, flexing his muscles. His blade circled an invisible object, then went charging into Mickey's, surprising everybody but the Black Hawks.

"Michael's going on the attack!" Jerry proclaimed, watching his screen as Michael's attack power rose slightly. "This is so strange. He can't possibly overpower Mickey. What is he doing?"

"You're a fool!" Mickey chuckled as their blades clashed. His was pushing Michael's back with ease. "If you didn't already know, I've got higher attack stats than you. There's no way you can take me down in my own area of expertise. Have you finally lost it and admitted defeat?"

Veins bulged on Michael's arms and he grunted loudly, using his ripcord as a knife and stabbing through the air with it. Mickey called out to his blade, and the two met in the center of the dish, creating a burst of sparks that lit up the area, concealing both.

"Whoa, what happened! I can't see what's happening in the dish!" Joseph said, leaning over the railing of his platform. "Can anybody see who won?"

As the light faded, Mickey fell to one knee, but Michael was still standing, the veins in his forearms gone. Mickey appeared just as confused as Joseph and the rest of the audience.

Mickey was the first to snap out of it, looking around for his Beyblade. Neither blade was in the dish. He turned, finding Michael's lying behind him. He picked it up, tossing it into the dish, seeing his blade next to Michael's foot.

"DOUBLE RING OUT! It's a draw!" Joseph declared, raising his platform back to a safe distance. "Wow! What a way to start it off!

Michael tilted his head to the side as he gawked at Mickey, picking his foot up and then stomping down, the sound of snapping Beyblade pieces coming from under his boot.

Mickey lurched forward, hopping the dish and bending over to see his Beyblade broken. The attack ring was snapped in three, and the base was shattered. "My Beyblade! You fucker!" He glared up at Michael, who just walked past him back to his team. Picking up the pieces of his blade, he stood and left the dish. That bastard smashed my blade for no reason!

"Whoa, that was harsh," John said. "I don't like those guys, but they don't deserve that."

"Those Black Hawks have no honor," Parker said sadly, recalling his match with Steven. "I should know. They would've done the same thing to me if you guys didn't have my back."

"You guys," Chrissy called out to them, leaning forward in her seat so they could all see her. "Whoever wins between us…has to shut those Hawks down, got it? We have to show them that they can't get away with that!"

"Right," Carry said.

"Yeah!" agreed Cory.

Down on the floor, Sarge was noticeably fuming. He punched a hole in the wall behind them, and gave the middle finger to an official who unsuccessfully tried to deter him. "Since Michael couldn't follow a _simple order_, it looks like we're relying on you for a second-game victory, Freddy. I don't think I need to remind you of the consequences of failure, do I?"

Freddy shook his head vigorously. "No, I understand, sir! I won't fail!"

Trevor watched Michael, but the boy seemed indifferent to what had just happened. Perhaps he was keeping his rage locked up inside as he usually did. "Hey, once Freddy wins," he started, facing Steven, who was sitting on the edge of the bench with his arms crossed. "Who's gonna take the third game? You or me?"

"It doesn't really matter," Steven replied in a monotonous voice. "We'll win regardless. Nobody can compare to the power of the Black Hawks."

Freddy was dressed in a slightly customized Black Hawk uniform; instead of the basic all-black palette, his long-sleeved shirt had dark red stripes running horizontally along it. He removed a brown fedora from his pocket, stretching it out and brushing it off before placing it on top of his short blonde hair. His right hand was covered with a brown glove, unlike his left hand, which was bare.

"Chuck, you must win this one," Jerry pleaded to the big brute. "Our ancestors, remember? Everybody in our family is counting on you—"

Manfred interrupted, saying, "Look, you don't wanna know the consequences if you fail. It's that simple." _We wouldn't need to count on you so much if Mickey had just won his match!_

"Right," Jerry continued. "Now, just remember to take it easy. We don't want you running out of steam like Mickey did. Freddy is an erratic blader, so always have a backup move if he surprises you."

"Don't worry, guys," Chuck assured them. "I'm gonna pummel this goon and take a nice, big crap in his hat, and then I'm gonna make him wear it!"

He ran up to the dish, pulling up his launcher, which had his Beyblade already attached and ready to go. Freddy held up his hand, showing off his Beyblade. Its base was a metallic orange, its weight disk was slim, and its attack ring was surrounded with small points that looked like little blades.

"Is that thing supposed to scare me? It looks like you built it out of a trashed toaster! Come on, bud, let's go!" Chuck demanded.

"Oh, a jokester!" Freddy orated, connecting his blade to his launcher. "This'll be fun."

**Freddy**

**ATK: **2

**DEF:** 2

**END:** 2

**Chuck**

**ATK:** 3

**DEF:** 2

**END:** 1 _1/2_

Joseph juggled the microphone for a moment before finally catching it and shouting, "Freddy from the Black Hawks will take on Chuck from the Covenant in the second set! Which team will scrape up the first win, or will it end in another draw? Let's find out right now! Bladers, ready! 3…2…1…LEEET IIIIT RIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPP!"


	6. It's Up to Manfred Now!

"You might wanna catch your blade!" Freddy said aloud, giggling.

Both Beyblades shot off their launchers, heading for the dish, but Freddy's managed to connect with Chuck's in the air, sending it gyrating into the rim and falling right out. The audience and the other Covenant members were stunned.

Not sure of what just happened, Joseph didn't know what to say. He took a minute to comprehend the situation, and then declared Freddy the winner. "It-it appears t-that Freddy has won the first round already…!"

Cory stated with wide eyes at the scene. "W-wow…so fast. What in the world…?"

"He knocked Chuck's blade out of the dish before they even landed!" Kevin said, gripping his pant legs. "I've never seen that before."

Freddy was laughing uncontrollably, slapping his knees and pointing at Chuck. "You lost! Ahahahah! You lost and it was easy!" He continued laughing, picking up his Beyblade from the dish.

Chuck was so enraged he was shaking, ready to burst. His face had turned red and veins bulged out of his neck. "Y-you think that's funny. Just wait until I come over there and smash your face in!" He hopped the dish and axe-handled Freddy, who fell to the ground laughing. Four officials rushed in, breaking up the fight and pulling Chuck back to his side.

Freddy got up, chuckling and wiping the blood from his lip. He licked the back of his hand clean and grinned widely.

"Officials have given me the word that the match will continue! Now, bladers, get ready!"

Studying the battle from the sidelines, Jerry typed some commands into his laptop, a new screen popping up. "Gah! Freddy's stats!"

"What is it?" Manfred inquired.

"His launching technique is purposefully crafted to do that every time! Unless he misses on purpose or is completely overpowered from the get-go, he'll always get a ring out in the beginning!"

"Chuck!" Manfred called out to his teammate. "You have to put all of your power into your launch! It's the only way to overcome his initial strike!"

Chuck slammed his Beyblade onto the launcher, jamming the ripcord in and getting into position. I've had enough of this child's play. It's time to beat the puss out of this sideshow freak. "Ahhh, I'm ready to beat some meat, kid! Put your dukes up!"

Freddy cracked his knuckles, readying himself. "You wanna beat some meat, eh? I'm sure your little friends over there wouldn't mind helping you. They look a little fruity to me."

"3…2…1…LET IT RIP!"

Chuck pulled the ripcord with all of his might, his battle top blasting off the launcher with incredible power. Freddy's blade hit Chuck's in the air, but it was sent flying back instead. Fortunately, it didn't fall out of the stadium, and landed near the edge. Chuck gritted his teeth and threw his fist out, his blade reacting promptly and bashing into Freddy's.

Freddy didn't seem worried. He kept laughing at all of Chuck's hits.

"What's so funny, punk?" asked Chuck.

"You! You think you can actually beat me! What a riot!" Freddy cackled wildly.

His top did a half-circle, dodging Chuck's smash attack. From this point on, Freddy kept the lead, dodging all of Chuck's attacks. He hopped over Chuck, messing up another attempt. Chuck was becoming enraged again, and took his eyes away from the battle, shifting them to Freddy, who was doing a little dance on his side; he'd even pulled out a pair of shades and put them on.

Carry facepalmed. "This match is a joke. Freddy's completely in control. He's not even taking this seriously."

"Yeah, it's almost not funny," John said. "I don't know how he's doing it, but he's using a similar strategy to Michael's, but implementing more confusion tactics. Not to mention he's making it look easy."

Chuck had had enough. He couldn't take Freddy mocking him anymore. He dropped his launcher and ripcord, and balled his fists, taking a step to the side. "I'm coming for you, little man!"

Freddy stopped dancing, put his hands to his hips, and tossed his head back, chortling. "No thanks, I'm straight! But like I said, your friends look like they're willing to help!"

"That's not what I meant!"

Chuck charged at Freddy like a bull. The officials all ran out after him.

Freddy simply sidestepped Chuck's initial assault. "Oop, you missed me!"

Chuck growled and pushed two officials out of his way, picking up a third one and tossing him at Freddy, who ducked out of the way and then gave him the "suck it" motion, further increasing his rage.

The two teams in the stands didn't know what to make of this. It wasn't even a match anymore. It was just Chuck trying to kill Freddy, who seemed to be having the time of his life as he evaded all of Chuck's attacks, just like in their actual Beybattle.

More officials intervened, and Chuck was done with. He was put in plastic handcuffs and dragged back to his teammates, who didn't look happy with him either. With Chuck out of the picture, his blade lost momentum, and spun out. Freddy was all too happy to return it to Chuck, but only after stepping on it and dancing on its remains first.

"Looks like a trashed toaster would have more use than your blade now!" Freddy cackled, throwing the pieces to the floor by the Covenant.

"Um, I guess I should call the match," Joseph said, slightly baffled by what had just unraveled. "Freddy from the Black Hawks is the winner! It's all up to Manfred from the Covenant to set things right and tie it up, but can he do it?"

Watching from above, Kevin snapped his fingers, catching himself in a eureka moment. "I got it!"

"Got what?" Parker looked lost.

"Freddy's strategy. I figured it out. He gets a first-round ring out to bring down the hopes of the person he's battling, and then he taunts them while avoiding their attacks. His opponent loses sight of the battle at hand and screw ups, and that's when he moves in for the kill. It's brilliant." _I have to find out its weakness before we face them, or he might be the one to beat…_

John continued watching the action on the floor, waiting to see who the final Beyblader from the Black Hawks would be – Steven or Trevor.

"Grr, what were you thinking?" Manfred shouted, pushing his teammate against the wall. "We just lost a match because of your foolishness! Now I have to go out there, and even if I win, we'll be tied and it'll go to sudden death! You really fucked up, Chuck. I expected an easy win from you. I guess I was wrong." He turned away from his teammate, who was still in handcuffs, and made his way to the dish.

"Who will Manfred be battling from the Black Hawks? Steven? Trevor?" Joseph questioned, looking down to them, expecting a quick answer.

Sarge examined his team, pacing in front of them. He narrowed his eyes at Michael, then grinned at Freddy, and finally stood in front of Steven and Trevor. "Just because we're up one win, I don't want you slacking off. We still have our reputation to uphold, and that requires winning the last round. Trevor…" The young man perked up. "I've got plans for you in the next round of battles, so I'm sending Steven out this match."

"Right, sir," Trevor responded, slightly disappointed that he wouldn't get to battle, although Sarge's withheld plans stemmed his interest.

"Steven, you know what to do," Sarge said confidently, keeping his eyes on the boy as he made his way to the dish.

Joseph bellowed, "And it looks like it'll be Steven fighting for the Black Hawks! This ought to be an intense last battle, ladies and gentlemen. Manfred knows he has to win in order to tie it up! The hopes of his entire team rest on him. On the other hand, even if Steven ties this one, the Black Hawks will advance to the finals."

**Steven**

**ATK:** 3

**DEF:** 2

**END:** 3

**Manfred**

**ATK:** 2

**DEF:** 2 _1/2_

**END:** 2 _1/2_

Steven's stare was like looking into an opaque window. His face was emotionless and his gray eyes were void of any signs of life. He slowly brought his Beyblade up to the launcher, connecting it carefully, and then held out his launcher with one hand.

Manfred frowned, trying to keep calm under all the pressure. _My ancestors and my team are counting on me. I can't fail them. I won't fail them. I will win. I'm their last hope. Please, ancestors, give me your strength so I can make you proud._ With his light silver blade attached to the launcher, he gave a signal to Joseph to start the match.


	7. A Black Hawk Victory

"For all of those just tuning in, I'm Joseph, your official tournament announcer!" reminded Joseph, pressing a button. His platform lowered to around ten feet above the Beydish, off to the side a couple feet. He had to get a good view of the action for the last match. "Today's been a day of surprising victories, defeats, and awesome battles!" He pointed to the huge television some yards away from him, which displayed the current win-loss standings for both teams. "In the first battle, Michael and Mickey squared off, but neither one could pull out a win, and it ended in a draw! Freddy and Chuck fought in the next round, literally. Chuck earned himself an automatic loss when he assaulted Freddy, putting the Covenant down by one. Now it's up to the Covenant's captain, Manfred, to bring his team to victory. He'll be facing Steven of the Black Hawks, so it's sure to be a challenge! Come on, folks, let's start this final round!"

Steven stood with his launcher held in one hand, and Manfred stood poised and ready for battle opposite of him.

"I kind of want Manfred to win," John said. "I know he's a dick, but Steven's an even bigger one."

"I know what you mean," admitted Chrissy, leaning forward against the railing in front of the teams, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. "If he beats Steven, it'll go to sudden death. If that happens, as long as the Black Hawks don't send Freddy to fight again, the Covenant can win."

Parker shouted to Manfred, "Beat this guy, dude!" He turned to his team. "What? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?"

"Right on," Cory said, giving him a thumbs up.

Manfred looked back, seeing the Ice Bladers and Demolition Raiders cheering for him, sending a wave of adrenaline through him. _Even my enemies are behind me on this one… This doesn't change anything, though. Once I beat him, I'm coming for them. Okay, Manfred, time to focus._ "Let's brawl, Steven!"

"Whatever." The stoic individual slid a red ripcord into his black launcher, positioning his legs for a strong launch.

"Alright, bladers! 3…2…1…LEEET IIIIT RIIIIIIIIIP!" yelled Joseph, raising his hand into the air sharply.

Manfred and Steven shot off their blades, pounding out an immense launch that caused a slight ripple in the air as the blades collided in the center of the dish. Wolfbear came on strong, pushing Steven's red- and black-colored Beyblade back steadily.

"Get him, Wolfbear! Tear him up! Attack!" Manfred hunched over, watching his battle closely, looking for any weaknesses in Steven's blade. _He isn't fighting back. What's he thinking? Does he want to go to sudden death or something?_ "Hey, what's the big idea? Fight back!"

Steven answered with a taunt. "Fine, but only because you'd probably cry if I didn't."

"What? You'll regret saying those words!" Manfred demanded, stomping his foot.

"Nah, I don't think so. Watch and you'll see that I'm not kidding when I say… I'm out of your league, kid! Nephyro, show him some of your power!"

Wolfbear had Nephyro near the edge of the dish when it suddenly stopped, surprising Manfred and the audience.

"W-what happened? Wolfbear, push him out!" yelled Manfred, watching as Wolfbear tried but failed to move Nephyro any further. _What's going on? I can't move him!_

"Nephyro, push this loser back!"

Manfred's eyes widened as Nephyro began pushing Wolfbear back with ease, like he wasn't even trying to fight back. He put his arms out, a faint silver aura surrounding him. As Wolfbear was pushed back, so was Manfred. He neared the edge of the platform with which the Beydish was on, just as Wolfbear was at the edge of the dish.

"Wolfbear! Don't give up!"

Manfred threw out his arms, yelling into the air. The bit chip on his Beyblade lit up, and Wolfbear jumped out of its container, howling garishly.

"Yes! Manfred's bit beast! He'll surely beat Steven now!" Chrissy said hopefully.

"We'll see," Kevin added, not fully convinced that Wolfbear coming out would even the playing field. "Steven still has his bit beast, too." _If what I saw during Parker's battle against him was anything to go by, he's got a whole bag of tricks up his sleeve that he hasn't even touched on yet._

Sweat dripped down Manfred's face as he moved closer to the dish again, Wolfbear moving with him, pushing Nephyro back slowly but surely. The boy struggled to find his footing in front of the dish, finding it difficult to push back Nephyro even with Wolfbear's assistance. "Come on, Wolfbear! Almost…there…keep going!"

Steven inhaled and exhaled quietly, crossing his arms. "I think this little comeback of yours has gone on long enough."

Manfred gritted his teeth, annoyed by Steven's taunting.

"Nephyro, show him what happens to losers who mess with us!"

Steven's Beyblade glowed a silky red, and then, out of the bit chip, came a majestic phoenix with jagged talons equipped to its feet, patterns of black feathers mingling with its red ones, and a black Mohawk running from its head down to its five tails that were whipping in the air behind it. Its caw was deafening, and it was emitting a slightly unsettling amount of heat from its body, causing some of the audience members to shed a layer or two of clothing.

Manfred stared up at the imperial beast hovering in front of Wolfbear, his body completely frozen in awe and fear. Wolfbear wasn't so frozen, but it didn't have much time to react, for Nephyro had flown high into the sky, disappearing in the sun's rays.

"Where did Steven's bit beast Nephyro go?" Joseph wondered aloud. "It's disappeared into the sun, just like a phoenix!"

"It's beautiful…" Chrissy commented, tears filling her eyes.

"It may be beautiful, but it's also dangerous," Carry reminded her. "I hope Manfred snaps out of it before Nephyro returns."

John shot up from his seat, pointing to the sky and shouting, "Too late! Watch out!"

Hurtling from the sky beak-first, vibrant flames flowing from all around him, was Nephyro. His wings were folded inward, and his feet were bent downward, streamlining him perfectly.

Steven crossed his arms in the shape of an 'X', and then flung them out to his sides. He declared, "Flaming Exile!"

"Manfred! Remember our mission!" shouted Jerry from behind Manfred, but it was too late. Manfred was too far gone.

Nephyro hit with shattering force, a wave of flames shooting out of the dish. Joseph hurriedly moved his platform back, narrowly avoiding an untimely death. Manfred hit the deck, ducking below the flames, which conveniently broke around Steven and then connected again after passing by him. The wave dissipated by the time it reached the audience, preventing plenty of lawsuits.

Kevin got up from the floor in front of his seat, making sure the coast was clear before lifting Carry up and brushing the hair from her face. She smiled at him comfortingly as the other members of the two teams rose to their feet as well.

With the end of the wave came a thick brume of smoke, obscuring the dish and the surrounding area, but bit by bit, it cleared up.

Chrissy gasped, gripping the rail for support as she leaned in to further her view, but quickly letting go of it after realizing that it was still very hot; yet, she remained with her eyes locked on the battlefield.

Manfred gradually got to one knee, heaving, the back of his head and clothes littered with pieces of the dish, which had severe burn marks covering most of it, and a deep crater that housed a burnt object. "W-what in the…" Then he saw it – Nephyro still spinning like it had been freshly launched, moving in a small circle on Steven's side of the dish. "No…! That means…!"

"In an incredible offensive move, Steven has completely scorched the Beydish and burned up Manfred's Beyblade. With no Beyblade, Manfred can no longer compete, so by default, Steven wins the set!" Even Joseph was reluctant to announce that, feeling a little bit of sorrow for Manfred. "That means the Black Hawks advance to the final round! We'll see everybody again tomorrow at noon sharp when the Ice Bladers face-off against the Demolition Raiders!" He peered down to Manfred, lowering his platform to the kid's level. "Sorry, kid. Rules are rules."

Nephyro jumped from the stadium, landing in Steven's hand as he grabbed it and turned away from the dish. "Pitiful."

As he returned to his team, Trevor chuckled and said, "Show-off. Now he doesn't even have scrap metal to play with."

"Heartbreaking." Steven returned to his normal stance, arms crossed and eyes closed.

Sarge clapped loudly. "Excellent job, soldier. Now let's get back to training. Michael earned you guys three miles."

The Black Hawk's theme music played as they left the arena, proud and victorious. On the other hand, Manfred was losing it. He was still kneeling in front of the dish, just staring at his burnt-to-crisps-Beyblade lying in a crater. Only Wolfbear's bit chip remained intact.

"H-h-how…H-how…?" he asked himself, his hands shaking and his teeth grinding against each other heavily. "I-I was humiliated…My _team_ was humiliated! F-forgive me, ancestors. I failed you this time, but rest assured…I will complete the mission you handed down…Yes, the mission. That's all that matters. Not friends…not allies…not even winning…just…the mission!"

His teammates came up to him, seeing him delving into lunacy. Chuck put his hand on Manfred's shoulder, but Manfred slapped it away, leaning into the Beydish and retrieving Wolfbear's bit chip.

He stood up, veins popping out of his cheeks and temples. "We have some work to do, boys. These guys haven't seen the last of the Covenant."

The audience had quickly dwindled down to a few fanatics, the Ice Bladers, and the Demolition Raiders. They had waited to avoid the long lines leaving the building.

John stood up first, taking out his Beyblade and staring a hole through it, clearly disturbed by the actions he witnessed today. "I can't wait to get in the dish and tear those Hawks up. What they did was just—"

"Deplorable, I know," finished Kevin. "But in order for us to beat them, we must stick together." He faced Damilare, who had gotten out of his seat and was listening to him speak. "No matter who wins tomorrow, we must all pitch in to beat the Black Hawks."

Carry gripped his hand, nodding beside him.

Damilare put up a fist, grinning. "That's right. With all of us against them, there's no way they'll be victorious in the finals."

"Let's all go and relax by the pool," Chrissy suggested, smiling widely. "It seems we're all a little on edge. We could use the relaxation. What do you say, guys?"

Parker was the first to jump at the chance to go to the pool. He hopped into the air, shouting, "Yes! I call dibs on the big orange raft!" He made a run for it, trying to get a head start.

"Hey, I had dibs called this morning!" Angus said, chasing after Parker.

"I better go make sure they don't cause too much trouble," sighed Carry, releasing Kevin's hand and heading off. "I'll see you there. Bye."

Kevin nodded. "See ya."

"I'm coming, too!" Chrissy said, dragging Cory with her as they met up with Carry by the exit.

"Are you going?" Kevin asked John, who hadn't looked away from his Beyblade the entire time.

John answered, "No. I have to practice for tomorrow. I'll catch up with you guys later." He pocketed his blade, stoically exiting the area, leaving just Kevin and Damilare.

"Well, today was definitely worth watching," Damilare said, turning to face the floor, fixing his eyes on the dish. "The Black Hawks are more powerful than I thought, especially Steven. He disposed of Manfred like he was nothing."

"Having doubts?"

"I don't know. I know my team is strong, but the Hawks are just…"

Kevin put his hand on Damilare's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. You still have to get past us first, and that's not gonna happen!" He smiled. "When we meet tomorrow, I expect nothing less than your absolute best."

Damilare extended his hand. "Same to you, man. I just have to warn you. We won't lose."

Kevin acknowledged, returning the handshake. "We'll see about that. Come on, they're waiting for us."

The two began walking toward the exit.

"I doubt that."

"Yeah, I know."

The duo shared a hearty laugh as they passed through the doorway, ardently awaiting what the next day would bring.


End file.
